
PRESKNTED HY /^/^ 



FOR CHRISTMAS DAY 



AND OTHER POEMS 



CURTIS C^BUSHNELL 



MCMX 



Gift 

21 0C71910 



THE TUTTLE, MOREHOUSE Sc TAYLOR COMPANY 



TO MY FATHER AND MOTHER 



CONTENTS 



For Christmas Day 7 

Snowing 8 

Alumni Songs of Syracuse 9 

With Wild-flowers from the South 11 

The Land of the Heart 12 

Translations Not Religious. 

Carpe Diem 16 

The Same 16 

Integer Vitae 17 

The Bandusian Spring 18 

The Epitaph of Paris 19 

The Epitaph of Little Erotion 19 

Wanderer's Nachthed 20 

Dithyramb , 21 

Religious Poems. 

From the Monastery 22 

Hymnus Matutinus Dominicae Diei 23 

For Sunday Morning 24 

In the Quiet Hour 25 

Vesper Hymn of Saint Ambrose 27 

Absolute 28 

Plaudite, Caeli 29 

Phoenix Expirans 30 

De Senectute 32 

Variants 34 



FOR CHRISTMAS DAY 

"Puer natus in Bethlehem 
Unde gaudet Jerusalem." 

A Child is born in Bethlehem 
And joyous is Jerusalem. 

A manger's lowly rest is His, 
Whose kingdom everlasting is. 

The ox and ass — Esaias' word — 

Knew that the Child was God and Lord. 

From Sheba come the Magi old, 

Bring frankincense, and myrrh, and gold; 

And, bowing at the humble door, 
Greet one by one their Emperor. 

Each of our fallen race must own 

The serpent's wound, save Him alone, 

Who Cometh meekly thus that we 
May like Him and His Father be. 

The Lord, Who blessed is alway 

Thrice blessed be this Christmas Day. 

Praise to the Holy Trinity ! 
To God in Heaven praises be! 



SNOWING 

Forth fly the feathery flakes! 

Like coursers wild 

They madly prance, 

Or maidens mild, 

In mazy dance. 
Or dash with plume of white and clash 
of silver lance, 

"Tumultuous privacy of storm" 

The poet called this, long ago. 

The window holds a boyish form 

Whose thought drifts with the drifting snow. 

Goes eddying with the roaring winds 

That whirl in the dance of the whirling snow. 



ALUMNI SONGS OF SYRACUSE 



Air: "Bright College Years." 

Shall ever loyal lips refuse 

To thee a song, Fair Syracuse? 
Oh, not till glowing sunsets pour 

From yonder golden heights no more, 
Till sink the hills thy turrets crown. 

Till thine arched heavens totter down ; 
For proudly Love shall lift the strain 

Of fairest Syracuse till then. 

Fair Syracuse ! in years to be 

Our steps from far shall turn to thee. 
Reunion's sacred song shall swell 

Through halls where holy mem'ries dwell. 
Oh, long Love's flame shall brighten clear! 

Oh, long shall distant days be dear ! 
And long the heart thine image bear, 

O cherished Syracuse and fair! 



II 

Air: "'Nita, Juanita." 

Hushed heights beholding 

Glowing West and golden star, 
Twilight enfolding 

Vale and Lake afar, 
Through the heart's recesses. 

Music breathes to Memory known. 
Breathes, while Love confesses 

Syracuse alone. 



Chorus 

Mater, Alma Mater, 

Years shall strive with Love in vain. 
Scenes of Alma Mater 

Bring the past again. 

Azure possessing 

Stars that lamp Night's lovely hall, 
Soft gales caressing, 

Silver light o'er all. 
Still to fairer splendor 

Hope thy holy towers to rear. 
Still Love's anthem tender 

Cheer thee, Mother dear. 
Chorus 



WITH WILD-FLOWERS FROM THE SOUTH 

The Easter sunbeams sweetly sleep 
Upon these Southern mountains steep, 

On whose long slopes thick clustering 
Nestle the fragrant flowers of spring. 

The sunbeam from an Easter sky 

Tells of a living Lord to me, 
And life awakes in flower and tree 

The risen Christ to glorify. 

Accept an Easter token, Friend, 

Hepatica and violet. 
Of all her wealth — and vain regret — 

The best the distant South can send. 



THE LAND OF THE HEART 



Where once I went, like a lad to his play, 

To stray and to strive in the cities of men, 
I would wander back by the wending way 

To come to the Land of the Heart again. 

II 

Boyhood to Manhood with gesture gay 

Beckons, I follow ; the way is good 
With him and Morn through the pleasant wood — 

Oh, there's song in the bough and there's dew on the spray !- 

Ill 

Through the pleasant wood to the lookout trees 

Where the valley sinks and the soul is still; 
Something holy like Sabbath peace 

Seems here, as I gaze from the quiet hill. 

IV 

Yonder there see the lone Rock rear 

Ruddy cliffs in the morning sky ! 
Under, the scenes to boyhood dear 

Steeped in the freshness of dawning lie. 

V 

There is the City ! and there the strand ! 

And the haven fair where the tides are met 
By waters sweet from the inner land ; 

And there is the Giant sleeping yet. 



VI 

To the blue far Peak and the Northern skies 
Green meadows reach in a grassy floor, 

Below us the Village lines either shore 

Of the white-capped wave where the sea-gull flies. 



VII 

And well do I know each home where the trees 
Like a lake of green the plain embower ; 

And well do I know the square church-tower 

Far-seen by the sailor bound home from the seas ; 



VIII 

And well I know who behind it lie, 

Those whom I forget not or far or near. — 

But the school-clock strikes, and the moments fly, 
And the waters are calling from wharf and pier. 



IX 

With flooring of plank and buttress of stone 
A bridge o'er the narrow billow is thrown; 

It weds the shores like a marriage ring 

And Fair Haven's sundered halves are one. 



X 

There are times of beauty ! but seek not here 
When the tide runs low with the mid-day near. 

When the stakes are a-quiver in the hurrying river 
Like things that suffer, or things that fear. 



13 



XI 

But come with the night when the clustering 
Of the ghttering squadrons mustering 

Breaks in starry surge on the deeps of Heaven, 
Or come when the day is westering. 



XII 

To Youth and Pleasure the upper flow 
Of the stream belongs: to the Island row 

The shouting lads ; light laughs from the wave ; 
The free, glad winds o'er the meadows go. 



XIII 

But southwards encroaching hills and piers 
Constrain the darkened current, that bears 

The outbound shipping as Manhood grave 
Its burden toward seas of the endless years. 



XIV 

How all has come back ! There the Cricket floats 
By King's old dock, no sight so fair 

In the summer morn, beloved of boats. 
And what ! Is it Albert and Lewie there ? 



XV 

"Hey ! fellows. You've brought the lunch along 

For a row up the river? Oh, yes, I see. 
How queer that we're boys! We've been men so long! 

But it's fine ! It is just as it used to be !" 



14 



XVI 

"And the tide's high, and the breeze is strong, 
And the swimming's grand as grand can be. 

And, supposing the turn at the oar seems long. 
We won't ever grumble, no, boys, not we!" 

XVII 

"And when it is night we will climb the lane 
With the jingling oarlocks, and from the damp 

Of the dark gaze in through the window-pane 
On Father and Mother and evening lamp." 

XVIII 

Ah ! the vision is closed, for the stem To-day- 
Locks the heart's lost land behind portals fast; 

'Twere a feebler bar if across the way 
The mountain-chains of a world were cast. 

XIX 

And yet I am sure on some Future fair 

Those gates shall open with evening star, — 

And there the mates of my boyhood are. 
And Father and Mother and God are there! 

Fair Haven Heights, New Haven, Conn. 



15 



TRANSLATIONS NOT RELIGIOUS 

CARPE DIEM 

Search not, Leuconoe, what end 
On thee and me the gods shall send, 

And, though the wise Chaldseans show 
It not and Heaven forbids to know, 

Content thee ! Let the Power above 
Give or withhold thy winters, — ^Jove, 

Who on these shores resistlessly 
Shatters the surging Tyrrhene sea. 

Be wise then ; strain thy wines ; give up 
In thy brief hour the far-flung hope. 

We speak, and envious Time 's away; 
So trust him not, but grasp To-day. 

Horace. 



THE SAME 

Seek not knowledge forbid, Leuconoe, what unto thee and me 
God hath given for fate read in the stars, nor what the Chaldees 
say 
Search thou conning their lore. Rather let all, whatever will be, 
be; 
Jove's will willing receive granting thee more winters or this 
the last 
That now rolleth the vast bellowing surge shattered on shores 
Tyrrhene. 
Ah! learn, learn to be wise, straining the wine, knowing the 
time is short, 
Far hope pruning away. Lo ! as we speak, envious Time is gone. 
Love not lure of the Morn. Thine is To-day. Look that To- 
day be thine! 

i6 



INTEGER VITAE 

He the pure of hand, he whose heart is holy, 
Fuscus, shall not wield Moorish bow nor lances, 
Little is his need of the death-fraught quiver 
And barbs of poison. 

Safe shall be his walk through the torrid Syrtis, 
Caucasus no more rolls with hostile thunders, 
Fancy's self can frame him no fabled terror 
By far Hydaspes. 

Me of late a wolf in the Sabine forest 
(Lalage I sang, happy-hearted wandered 
Deeper than I deemed in the woodland shadows) 
Met and straight fled me. 

Fled me all unarmed. Never such a monster 
Daunia hath fed 'mid the stately oak-groves, 
Afric never bred in her parched Sahara, 
Nurse of the lion. 

Set me where no tree on the frozen tundras 
Hears the summer breathe Nature's resurrection, 
Land of mist and cloud by the Lord of Heaven 
Hated forever; 

Set me near the sun where the scorching tropics 
Bear his burning wheels, where no mortal dwelleth, 
Lalage I'll sing, sweetly smiling maiden. 
Her voice low music. 

Horace. 



!7 



THE BANDUSIAN SPRING 

O Bandusian Fount, crystal, and golden floor ! 
Thine it is to receive sweetness of wine and flowers, 
Thine to take on the morrow 
Sacrifice of a kid whose brow 

Now first budding with horns telleth of love and war — 
Vainly; staining thy stream ruddy his life shall flow. 
Ruddy through limpid waters. 

(Mourn the pride of the playful flock!) 

Thee the fierceness of heat spareth in summer's hour; 
Hot and thirsting the kine come to thy cold, sweet spring ; 
Thou the pain of the ploughing 

Slakest, friend of the straying flock. 

Quiet fountain of mine, many thy fame shall know — 
How from under the oak set upon hollow rocks 
(Cool and dim is the grotto) 
Leaps the laugh of a stainless wave. 

Horace. 



i8 



THE EPITAPH OF PARIS 

Eager traveler on thy northward journey, 
Stay, nor heedlessly pass the honored marbles ; 
Here the Darling of Rome, the Wit of Egypt, 
Art and Merriment here, and sportive Pleasure, 
Here the Theatre's glory and its grieving, 
Here the Graces and all the dainty Cupids, 
Buried lie in the stately tomb of Paris. 

Martial. 



THE EPITAPH OF LITTLE EROTION 

Father Fronto, Flacilla my mother, to you this maiden 
Thus I commend, poor child ! memory's darling and kiss. 

So shall the little Erotion dread not that blackness of darkness. 
Nor those gaping and grim heads of the watchdog of Hell. 

Six chill winters of beautiful Hfe were soon to be ended; 
Six were the days by Fate grudged to their limited span. 

Live in the house of death, O Love ! with old-time protectors 
Play, little One, and speak lispingly there of my name. 

Light for that delicate form lie the sod ! And thou upon her 
Weigh not heavy. Earth. Light was her step upon thee. 

Martial. 



19 



WANDERER'S NACHTLIED 

On every hill 

Is peace, 

Is rest. 

Thou seest no stir in the treetops still. 

The songs of birds in the forest cease. 

Wait quietly! 
There shall also to thee 
Come rest, 
Come release. 

Goethe. 



20 



DITHYRAMB 



Never, ah, never, appear the Immortals, 

Never alone. 
Cupid and Bacchus are birds of a feather ! 
Laughing they enter my dwelling together ; 
Then enters Phoebus, the Throned, the One. 

All Heaven throngs onward to Earth's lowly portals ; 

They are near, yea, are here, the beloved Immortals. 

II 

How shall the earthborn one banquet the deathless 

Choir of the Blest? 
Pour me a draught of your life ever-living. 
What unto Gods could a mortal be giving? 
Yours is Olympus, and there be my rest ! 

Oh, Delight has no dwelling save Jupiter's palace; 

Bear me thither, bright wave of the nectar-filled chalice. 

Ill 

"Fill full for the Poet! Stream, nectar of Heaven! 

Sparkling and free. 
Veiled with the dew of the liquor undying 
Styx, hateful billow, his vision be flying; 
One of ourselves let him deem him to be!" 

The fountain immortal pours gladness and rest; 

There is light of the eye, there is calm of the breast. 

Schiller. 



RELIGIOUS POEMS 

FROM THE MONASTERY 

"Quid, Tyranne, quid minarisf" 

Tyrant, shall thy machination, 
Shall thy cruel thought in this 
Lure or threat me from my station ? 
Fears Christ's lover aught in this? 

Faster standeth resolution; 

Faint the force of evil is ; 

"Death I dread not, but pollution ! — " 

Mightier Love my master is. 

Threaten exile, threaten losses ; 
Still I reckon naught of this ; 
Bring the axe, the rope, the crosses, 
Flaming pain or aught of this, — 

Persecution ! execution ! 

Love's obedience vaster is ; 

"Welcome death, but not pollution !" 

Mightier Love my master is. 

Even dear are these distresses ; 
Loss, how slight a grief it is ! 
Brighten, Love! when anguish presses; 
Once to die, how brief it is ! 

Singing, "Sweet is persecution; 

Torment light disaster is ; 

'Death be mine, but not pollution !' — 

Mightier Love my master is !" 



HYMNUS MATUTINUS DOMINICAE DIEI 

Rosarum plena atria 
Aurora pandit septima, 
Desiderata, regens me 
Ad domum Tuam, Domine. 

O grata mi haec aurei 
Et novi solis lumina ! 
O grata vox in corde mi ! 
O vere magna gaudia 
"Veni ad Me" dicentem Te 
Audire, Pastor optime ! 

Quid, meum cor, pavoris est? 
Et ubi tua tristia? 
Adiutor Rex amoris est ; 
Sic abeunt in gaudia. 
Quid turbet Tuos, Domine 
Qui corda donas requie? 

Divinae lucis Sabbata 
Exorientur aeterna. 
Non ruet domus Tua; me 
Ut illuc regas, Domine! 



23 



FOR SUNDAY MORNING 

God's hush is on the world again 
In Sabbath silence. We return 

From wayward walk and wandering vain 
Again from Jesus' lips to learn. 

Pleasant the first long sunbeams fall. 

Dew is on blade and bird in tree, 
And through the dawn a tender call, — 

"O thou that sleepest ! Wake to Me !" 

Dear Lord, what prayer of ours shall greet 
Thy morn? This day Thy face to see, 

The care and strain and fear forget. 
To walk with Thee and learn of Thee. 

Thy love and light within us shine 
More as Thy golden hours increase. 

And winds of evening breathe, divine 
And calm, the beauty of Thy peace. 

Nor let the wilful week from Thee 
Our hearts withdraw ; and glad return 

Be ours, from its stern service free, 
To Thee again, Thy truth to learn. 



24 



IN THE QUIET HOUR 

In the solemn hush of sunset, 

While with awe my spirit thrills, 

And the shadows deeper darken 
The broad circle of the hills. 

And the greatness of God's glory- 
In the wide, dim world I see. 

Then of all His moments sweetest 
Speaks my loving Lord with me. 



When against this lonely summit 

Morning's friendly shafts are hurled, 
Sweetly dawns on me the glory 

Of the Lamp that lights the world. 
Sweetly breathes my prayer ascending 

Silent spaces filled with God, 
When the night from arching sapphire 

Hangs her glowing fires abroad. 



Beautiful with noon's anointing 

Lies the earth in golden shower. 
Brimming lakes of light the valleys 

Smile, and safe the sunny hour; 
Then a more than noon-day safety 

Keeps the soul that trusts its Lord, 
Infinite on me unworthy 

Are the tides of comfort poured. 



25 



In the quiet hour when splendors 

Strike aslant each ruddy crest, 
Awed, I watch my God's great glory 

Melt with fervent heat the West ; 
Watch His mercy quench His terror 

In slow tides of peaceful gray. 
Hear the praise His lower creatures 

Render with the closing day. 



When they cease I yet will praise Him. 

Solemn silence ! Lonely hills ! 
Gloomy shadows ! But my spirit 

With my Lord's dear comfort thrills; 
And when His exalted glory 

In the wide, dim world I see. 
Present then when most I need Him 

Sweetly He communes with me. 



Forest View, Little City, Conn. 



26 



VESPER HYMN OF SAINT AMBROSE 

"O Lux heata, Trinitas 
Et principalis Unitas, 
lam sol recedit igneus, 
Infunde lumen cordibus." 

O Ray of blessing, One and Three ! 

O Lamp Whom night and shadow flee ! 

Already sinks the fiery sun; 

Rise Thou, true Light! our hearts upon. 

On Thee at joyous morn we call. 
Whom should we seek while shadows fall? 
What other praise? To whom else pray? 
O grant to worship Thee alway! 

Most dread, most dear, most heavenly Friend, 

Father and one-begotten Son 

And Spirit, Thy great Name alone 

Most blessed be, world without end. Amen. 



Afar on peak and plain and lake 

Soon shall the eternal morning break. 

Life's fiery sun descends, how fast! 

Be Thou, true Light! our day at last. Amen, 



27 



ABSOLUTE 

Still unresolved by instrument 
Deepens the searchless firmament; 
The infinitesimal abyss 
As desperate to fathom is. 

beating wings of light that fly 
For century and century ! 

How fast you sped when time was young 
And morning stars together sung! 
Sped fast to cross the boundless whole, 
Nor yet are nearer to your goal, 
Shall still speed fast till time shall die. 
Nor closer to your limit fly. 

But space, which boundless spreads abroad, 
Is as the atom's breadth to God; 
To Whom the atom's breadth is still 
As boundless space to work His will; 

To Whom all vast eternity 
One fleeting moment's time can be, 
A moment's time sufficient still 
In all to work His timeless will. 

Great Father of Infinity, 

1 pray Thy child may humble be ; 
Who carest so for less than least. 
Be his faint faith in Thee increased ; 
Abounding Source of every good, 
Grant him some thought of gratitude ! 



28 



PLAUDITE, CAELI 

Heavens to heavens triumphant ring; 
Smiling- skies the echoes bring. 
Past the storm-rack ! Overpast 
Each black fury of the blast! 
Monarch of the fragrant calm, 
Lo ! the beauty of the palm. 

Rise, ye flowers that Easter yields ! 
Buds ! arise in painted fields ! 
Violets that roses fold ! 
Lilies white, with marigold! 

Lip and lute in melody 
Christ the Lord our song shall be, 
Jesus risen as he said, 
Jesus risen from the dead ! 

See! the streaming founts rejoice! 
Craggy mountains find a voice! 
Heights and depths together hymn: — 
"Death hath had no power o'er Him; 
Christ is risen as he said ! 
Christ is risen from the dead !" 



29 



PHOENIX EXPIRANS 

"Tandem audite me, 
Sionis filiae!" 

Daughters of Zion, will 
Ye scorn to listen still? 
And shall He never heed, 
He Whom I love indeed, 
Whose face I pine to see. 
Whose love is death to me? 

Fain would a weary breast 
On flowery couches rest. 
Its cares with flagons sped, 
With apples comforted; 
For passion's surges roll. 
They melt as wax my soul! 

Bring boughs of odorous breath, 
Bring slumberous boughs of death, 
That so the funeral fire 
May wrap my solemn pyre. 
May I as Phoenix lies 
Lie! Yea, like him arise! 

If sweetest love be pain, 
Or pain be love again. 
Striving of thought to show 
Is vain; but this I know: 
Dear is sweet pain to me. 
If pain dear love may be. 



30 



Thy lingering- torment cease, 
Love ! Break thy cruel peace. 
Moments, sweet King, appear 
To match the slow, long year. 
So long thou dost delay! 
So slow thine arrows slay ! 

Burst now this web of strife. 
Soul ! with the thread of life. 
Mount yonder where the fire's 
Fierce upward rush aspires 
To Heaven's palace-dome. 
Dear native land and home! 



31 



DE SENECTUTE 

Shrink not to own His power 
Perfect in pain and death, 
Wake in Hfe's sunset hour, 
O Love and Faith ! 

Thy curtains are cast down? 
Thine earthly tent doth fall? 
Now is thy fairer home 
Made all in all. 

Yield Him thy last distress, 
Whom the strong suns obey, 
In burning ranks to press 
On their proud way. 

Grant Him thy life to keep. 
Whose eye doth closely view 
Each less than atom sweep 
Its orbit true. 

What past the thin veil lies 
Is not in all unknown ; 
Beneath yon brighter skies 
Walks none alone. 

Beyond the veil as here 
This fellowship shall be, — 
Thou not to self so near 
As He to thee. 



32 



And they in Him who live, 
Heart's treasure heaven-won, 
Heaven's welcome wait to give 
Not now far on. 

Our Hope and Way and Guide, 
O Christ, our Life divine ! 
Let death be Thine, life Thine; 
Be magnified! 



33 



VARIANTS 

Snowing, p. 8 : 

Forth fly the fairy flakes ! 
A mazy dance 
Of maidens mild, 
The maddened prance 
Of coursers wild, 

The dash with plume of white, the 
clash of silver lance. 



The Land of the Heart, pp. 13, 14: 

With flooring of plank and buttress of stone 
A bridge o'er the narrow surge is thrown ; 

It weds the shores like a marriage ring 
To make the halves of the village one. 

And pleasant it is 'neath the clustering 
Of the glittering squadrons mustering 

To be here with Night and the jewelled Heaven, 
And pleasant when day is westering. 

Dithyramb, p. 21 : 

Never, believe me, appear the Immortals, 

Never alone. 
Scarce merry Bacchus his greeting may give me ; 
There boyish Love is, a-smile to receive me! 
Phoebus, the Royal, to join them has flown. 

All Heaven throngs onward to Earth's lowly portals ; 

They are near, yea, are here, the beloved Immortals. 

— ^-S- THE) END •<v^— 



34 



3ltt li^mnrtam 

Margaret A, Bushnell, July 7, 1834-August 16, 1910. 

IN HARBOR 

Received from the tempest of griefs and sins, 
Lulled upon waters of endless peace, 
Moored where never the storm begins. 
Anchored where never the ground-swell heaves, 

Praise be to God for the ships that have passed 
In stainless honor Life's ocean o'er 
To rest in this land-locked haven at last 
Of the voiceless wave, of the quiet shore 

Where 'mid many a bloom the poppies stand 
With lilies pure, and in perfumed spring 
The sweet, wild winds go fluttering 
Down the mounded sod that slopes to the strand. 

And Grief and Memory with me go 
As I gaze adown on each lowly stone. 
"Father," "Mother" I read on one; 
Many, ah, many ! the names I know. 

Rounding the headland cold and grey 
Where the broken pillar stands to the view. 
Peacefully, surely entered they, — 
God ! how surely ! — the friends I knew. 

Peacefully ! leaving what storm to sweep 

The Earthly ocean in tumult wild ! 

What winds to moan unreconciled! 

What billows to tear at the heart of the deep! 

35 



Yet already these slumbering waters o'er 
The dawn is aglow in Eternal skies, 
And Hope in her home on the mounded shore 
Finds sweeter than music its silences. 

For this is not wreck, it is haven fair. 
Where God for awhile will shelter these, 
Who with unrent canvas, unshattered the spar, 
Shall sail in His time on immortal seas 

To that City whose lamp is the Lamb. — Ah, vain 
To speak the glory ! Shine, Hght of the Lord, 
To everlasting! — Not there shall be pain, 
Neither death, any more, — and faithful the word. 

See the ships of our vision sweep grandly and strong ! 
How proudly the pennants are flung to the blast ! 
Burst, rapture of music! they anchor. At last! 
"Hail, Heart's dear Country!" Shout! welcoming throng. 

And pass, wild Grief ! Leave calm within 
Sweet and deep as the peace of these 
Moored where never the storms begin, 
Anchored where never the ground-swell heaves. 



36 



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